


Cold Hallelujah

by cometchained



Series: Hallelujah [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, one sided feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 08:30:22
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,054
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cometchained/pseuds/cometchained
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It is Jo Harvelle's last night on Earth, but she doesn't know it yet.</p><p>Coda to 5x10, Abandon All Hope. Pre 5x10.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cold Hallelujah

**Author's Note:**

> The Hallelujah series revolve around specific scenes in Jo Harvelle's life, as she's one of my favorite characters. 
> 
> Inspired by the "Hallelujah" cover by Kate Voegle.

This is Jo Harvelle's last night on Earth, but she doesn't know it yet.

It is a long drive to Carthage, Missouri; almost eight hours. She sits in the passenger side seat of her mother's Rambler with her feet up on the dashboard and watches the angel in the backseat through the rearview mirror.

He is an odd thing, Castiel. She has been laboring under the impression that angels are all powerful beings, creatures of such supernatural strength and intensity that they radiate it, are created from it, exude it from every part of their being.

Castiel radiates something, but Jo is not sure what it is, exactly. He did not complain when Dean and Sam shuffled him towards her mom's car instead of letting him ride in the back of the Impala. It surprised her, since from what she's heard about Castiel is that he has "a strange attachment to the Winchester boys" (Bobby's words, not hers). But Cas is oddly docile, despite giving Dean a pointed look, as though to indicate that he is annoyed at something (perhaps because Dean had just called him 'the one in the trenchcoat' instead of his actual name). He had climbed into the backseat of the Rambler without comment and has been sitting quietly ever since.

At first, it's awkward. Jo and Ellen exchange looks, but Ellen merely shrugs, keeping her eyes on the taillights of the car in front of her. Jo follows suit, directing her gaze frontwards again, but every few moments her eyes stray to the rearview mirror.

An hour passes in silence.

The second hour, Ellen breaks the silence and asks Castiel about how he got roped into all of this in the first place. This causes the angel to sigh heavily, and Jo isn't sure if it's from exasperation or frustration or anger; he is so hard to read, so hard to grasp, like a passing ripple on water. He says something about rebelling, Ellen responds curiously, and soon the three of them are having a regular conversation; or, at least, it would be regular if they were not about to do what they are doing. But for the moment, Jo can set aside their dangerous mission, push away their inevitable failure, and focus on something else, something solid, something like the angel sitting in the backseat of their car.

She wasn't sure what to think on first impressions alone, but as time passes, as the conversation goes from rebellion to earthly habits to Lucifer to vessels to time to the previous night's drinking and everything in between, she begins to relax, smile, laugh at the incredulity of their situation.

It's strange, but each conversation with Castiel reminds her of Dean.

Maybe it's because, on first glance, they are nothing alike. Dean is a solid, sweet-talking, determined hunter, a fierce warrior. Castiel is quiet, dutiful, respectful. He holds himself with his shoulders rounded, rather than straight up, as though the weight of the world is upon his shoulders.

But on second glance, she starts to see the similarities. The way they seem to complement each other, the answer to how they are even friends, why Dean and Castiel even communicate with one another. The way Castiel's expression softens slightly when he speaks of the Winchesters. She learns of Castiel's expulsion from Heaven because of his ties with them, sees the despondency on his face, and understands.

In the fifth hour, Jo realizes she is still as in love with Dean as she ever was, and it hurts, it sinks into her soul like a tattoo, like a brand. Dean, the ever faithful soldier, her strength, her unintentional guide.

Dean, who will never look at her the same way she looks at him.

In the sixth hour, Jo realizes that they are two hours away from almost certain death.

In the seventh hour, she panics, reality sinking in, her breath coming out in short gasps, though she tries to keep Castiel from seeing, her mother's hand wrapped firmly around her own. Ellen is not looking at her - she needs to keep her eyes on the road - but her fingers are trembling just slightly, and her expression is taut, tense with worry and frustration. Jo does not want to see that look on her face, but there is nothing she can do but wait it out, wait until her nerves settle.

Fingertips touch her shoulder gently, a light pressure, and Jo is suddenly filled with warmth, which seeps from the place she is being touched, down her arm and her chest until her entire body is wrapped in it. The tightness in her chest is easing, and she finds she can draw breath more easily now.

She turns her head, and sees Castiel drawing his hand away, his face an expressionless mask. His eyes are blue, so very blue, like the tides of an ocean.

"Thought you said you couldn't heal," Jo jokes, giving him a weak smile, and he looks at her almost curiously.

"I didn't heal you," he says. "I offered you comfort."

Castiel has turned his head and is gazing out the window at the passing scenery, flashes of green and red and orange passing over him as objects whiz by. Jo looks at her mother, eyebrows raised, and Ellen shrugs curiously, eyes flicking to the angel in the rearview mirror.

"...thanks," Jo says quietly, and Castiel does not answer.

In the eighth hour, they are eight minutes out of Carthage.

It is Jo Harvelle's last night on Earth, but she doesn't know it. What she does know is that she is not alone. She has her mom, she has Sam, she has Dean, always Dean, Dean who she will soon be kissing goodbye, though she cannot know this.

And she has Cas.

When Jo Harvelle is dying, she will wish she had some of Cas's comfort to keep her heart calm. She will hold Dean's hand, put her forehead against his as he leans in to kiss her, and wish for the warmth that leaves her as he pulls away. And she will lean against her mother in her final seconds, words of love being the last thing she hears, Dean's face in her mind.

It is Jo Harvelle's last night on Earth, and she will soon know it.


End file.
